


Smells like Christmas

by Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: (after Prey for context), Christmas Fluff, Parental Fred Thursday, but hes thursday's charity case, lots of fluff, morse isnt a charity case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28286343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror/pseuds/Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror
Summary: Morse was quite used to spending Christmas alone, until Thursday had something to say about it.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Smells like Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Merry christmas eve my lovely readers! I really wanted to do a fluffy little fic so I threw this together this morning so let me know if theres any mistakes <<33

“Come on Morse, can’t stay any longer tonight, its Christmas eve.” Came Thursday’s voice from the doorway of the office.

Morse looked up, surprised to see anyone was left in the office, presuming, as usual he was the last in.

“Just finishing up some reports, Sir.” Morse fumbled, twirling his pen idly between his fingers.

“Well, sign off, you can drive me home.”

More reluctantly accepted, filing the report into his desk drawer, and gathering his coat. He would have taken it home, but Thursday would only lecture him on the importance of ‘down time’, not that he was going to have anything to do for the next few days.

“You any good at wrapping?”

Morse shot Thursday a confused look before turning back to the road, taking the usual route to the Thursday’s. “Sorry?”

“Wrapping, I haven’t done Win’s yet, last minute I know but I’m god awful at it.”

Morse knew tradition of course. Like birthday gifts, presents at Christmas were wrapped but in truth he wasn’t sure if he’d ever wrapped one. he never had anyone to gift, the only person he would want to was Joycie but he never had the money when he was younger, even now he still sends regular cheques to keep them living comfortably, he couldn’t afford much more.

“Can’t say I’d be much help wrapping.” Morse offered, keeping it simple.

“Not surprised.”

Morse smirked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wrapping requires patience, last time I checked you didn’t have much of that.”

“I can be when I want to be.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. You got anything planned for Christmas?”

Morse shook his head, smiling slightly to avoid Thursday worrying about him.

“Not seeing your sister?”

“Oh no, she’s got a family now, she’ll be with them.”

“You’re her family too, remember.”

“I know, I just don’t want to intrude, what with the new baby.”

“Ah, of course, you’d be getting no rest, new-borns are a nightmare.”

Morse parked up by the curb, seeing the silhouettes of Thursday’s family behind the dining rooms curtain, likely serving out dinner in anticipation of his return home.

Unluckily for Morse, Thursday caught him whilst he thought no one was looking, seeing the sad gleam in his eyes.

“Why don’t you come in for a spot of food?”

“Oh, no its quite alright, I’ve got something in at home.” Morse quickly replied putting on the best smile he could muster.

Thursday gave him a doubtful look. “Well, have a good Christmas, don’t drink too much.”

Again, he smiled and nodded. “You too.”

Finally, Thursday had got out the car, where his front door promptly opened to Win welcoming him with open arms, lights from the Christmas decoration filtering through from the hallway.

Before he intruded any longer, he started up the Jag and returned it to the station.

It wasn’t a long walk home from there, which Morse was grateful for on the cold evenings. The frost bit at his cheeks, making him shiver.

Finally arriving home, he relaxed slightly in the comfort of routine. Much to his surprise he did actually have soup in and a loaf of bread which was about the peak of his cooking ability.

He flicked on a record and let the soup warm up on the hob. Wandering back into the libing room his eyes fell to the only photo in the flat. The one of he and his mother, much younger. He remembered what Christmas was like before she died. They’d find a real tree every year, decorate it with the same red baubles his mum stashed in the attic and each day his mum would complain about the pines that littered the carpet around the tree, knowing she wouldn’t change it for the world.

He felt guilty that he hadn’t continued her Christmas spirit. After moving back in with his father, he didn’t have the money to celebrate Christmas after his father’s betting debts were paid up. Whatever money was left was spent on a gift for Joycie, how it should be. Since then, Christmas was never quite the same. He’d almost forgotten the smell of fresh pine, the warm Christmas pudding his mother would make, the satsuma and chocolate coins left in his stocking.

Christmas was for families, and he wasn’t going to mope about not having one. no, tomorrow was just another day, a bank holiday perhaps since work was closed. Just another day of the year.

* * *

Well, maybe not a normal day. Today he slept in until gone 11am, a rarity for Morse who, even at the weekends woke up early to check in at work. But now there was nothing to be up for.

Lazily he plodded into the kitchen to make himself a brew, not bothering to open the living room curtains.

And he was quite content too, he might add. There was a book to read, records to listen to and quite possibly more soup to have, a perfectly good day off in his opinion.

Or at least so he thought until a knock on the door caused him to put the book down.

To say he was surprised to finding Thursday at his door was an understatement. “Sir?”

“Merry Christmas, Morse. Might I come in?”

Morse quickly nodded, stepping aside.

“No tree?”

Morse shrugged, self-conscious he was still in his pyjamas.

“At least you’re reading a Christmas Carol, getting any tips?”

Morse smiled. “I don’t think Christmas is a ‘humbug’ as much as it might surprise you.”

“Prove it, then.”

Morse frowned. “Sorry?”

“Come round for Christmas dinner, we eat around two-ish so best come for one.”

“Oh, no Sir. You’re meant to have Christmas with your family.”

“I am. Come on lad, can’t be upsetting Win on Christmas.”

Morse shook his head, trying to understand why Win would be disappointed not spending Christmas with her husbands bagman.

“1pm sharp, Morse. not a moment later or I’ll drag you there myself.”

Morse looked at him for a long moment, considering. Thursday was dressed in a, what looked like, a homemade Christmas jumper, winter coat slung over one arm and a hopeful look on his face.

He wasn’t sure why on earth he wanted Morse to be there, but he’d decided a while ago disappointing people he cared about wasn’t high on his agenda. Morse nodded. “One o’clock.”

Thursday beamed. “Good man.”

And with that he left, leaving Morse more confused than ever.

* * *

True to his word he turned up on time, having grabbed a quick shower and finding his cleanest shirt.

“Morse!” Win exclaimed, having opened the door not seconds after the doorbell chimed. She immediately pulled him into a tight hug. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs Thursday.” Morse said shyly, closing the door behind him.

“It’s Win, dear.”

“Morse! Was wondering when you’d show up.” Joan said, Morse being thrown into another hug, making him redden slightly.

“Merry Christmas.” He offered, pulling at his earlobe to ease his awkwardness.

“Everyone’s in the living room, come on.”

He followed Joan to find Sam had a similar Christmas jumper on to Fred. Looking back, so was Joan. He smiled, looking at Win admiring them sat around the fire in the den. There was a Christmas tree much too large for the room bundled into the corner, covered in multicoloured lights and baubles that, quite frankly, looked like a cat could have thrown on. But it was beautiful.

“Drink dear? I’ve warmed up some mulled wine.”

Morse nodded. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Hey Morse, look what dad got me.” Sam exclaimed, thrusting some tickets into his hand.

Morse smiled, seeing a season pass for Sam’s favourite football team.

“We’re going to go to every game, aren’t we dad?”

Thursday nodded. “That’s the plan.”

“And if dads ever busy, you could come.”

Morse raised an eyebrow. “That’s very kind but-“

“But Morse would rather watch paint dry than watch a game of football.” Thursday cut in, laughing.

Morse smiled, handing back the tickets that were being kept on the mantle.

“There you are, pet.” Win came from behind, holding out a steaming mug and sitting down next to Thursday.

“Well, you going to open your present?”

Morse turned to Joan surprised, well, more shocked, to find the question was in fact directed at him. Joan simply pointed at the single present left under the tree.

He looked to Win who smiled warmly at him.

It wasn’t a joke. The present was for him. he wasn’t sure if he was too scared to move over to the tree. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. What on earth could it be? Why would they get him a gift? Oh no, he hadn’t brought anything in return, not even a bottle of wine to thank them for having him, this was bad. He couldn’t possibly accept it, he couldn’t-

He was now holding the gift. It was soft through the wrapping paper, yet still a handful. Whatever it was he couldn’t accept it.

Sitting back down he noted everyone staring at him, smiling. Lord knows what look he must have on his face, probably fear. What was he supposed to do? How do people thank people for getting them gifts?

“Thank you, I really wasn’t expecting anything.”

“Don’t thank us yet, lad you don’t even know what it is.”

“Go on, open it!”

Nodding, he began to gently tear away the Sellotape, not wanting to damage the red wrapping paper.

Once the end was open, he placed a hand inside, pulling the present out gently.

He wasn’t sure what to say. He looked to Win with so much gratitude and warmth it said a thousand words.

“Now you’re condemned to look like us!” Thursday joked, making Sam laugh.

Morse just smiled, looking down at the brown and red woven Christmas jumper like it was the most precious thing on earth.

“I had to guess your size; I hope it fits.” Win explained, putting a gently hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you. truly.”

He slipped the hand-made jumper on which fit perfectly, if not a little long in the sleeves.

“I can always sew them back a bit if they get-“

“No, thank you, Win... It’s perfect.”

“Merry Christmas, Morse.”

And for the first time in a long time, Christmas smelt like smelt fresh pine and Christmas pudding.


End file.
